
THRESHOLD 




\ ^ ^ ^ 

HILLSIDE 
SKETCH 



^ 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap. Copyright No. 

8helf.._H-^-^- 05 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




MARY A. HARTSHORN. 



ON THE 

THRESHOLD 

(A HILLSIDE SKETCH) 



. BY 

MARY A. HARTSHORN 



THE 

Hbbcy press 

PUBLISHERS 

114 

FIFTH AVENUE 

NEW YORK MONTREAL 



:o'j 



Library of Congreeaf' 

Two Copies Received 
SECONr; COPY 



Ov'W'X*^. to 



OROth OIV.StON 

DEC 13 1900 



Copyright, 1900, 

by 

THE 

Hbbcy press 






the 
United States 

and 
Great Britain. 



All Rights Reserved, 



Biographical Note. 

Miss Mary A. Hartshorn, the 
author of this little book, was born 
on a hillside in the town of Lebanon, 
Madison County, N. Y.,and passed her 
girlhood amid rural surroundings of 
much beauty. Her educational oppor- 
tunities were those of the public 
school and the Ladies' Seminary, in 
the neighboring village of Hamilton, 
almost in sight of the farmhouse 
zvhich was her home. Her own hill- 
side life, and her experiences in a 
rather famous educational village, ef- 
fectively qualify her for deftness of 
touch and fervor. 

THE PUBLISHERS. 



On the Threshold. 

A Hillside Sketch. 



A NARROW highway turns ab- 
ruptly from the smooth roadbed 
of a fertile valley, and begins a 
long, tortuous mile of ascent. 

It leads from a little bridge, 
under which glides and dashes, 
in alternate moods, a wandering 
brook, which ever moves eagerly 
on to pour its sparkling, restless 



On the Threshold. 

life into the infinite bosom of the 
sea. 

Its soothing babble soon dies 
away, for the carriage road and 
the stream's course gradually 
diverge. The scrawny arms of 
a neglected, scraggy hedgerow 
at the right shut out, with but 
occasional glimpses^, an old, tum- 
ble-down mill upon the shelving 
bank, with the waving grasses 
and wild flowers along the up- 
ward course of the stream be- 
yond. 

The hedgerow terminates at 

8 



On the Threshold. 

the Opening of a deep ravine, 
through which the silvery brook 
purls in narrow passes, over 
stony ways; widens into deep 
recesses of solemn quietude, or 
falls with glimmering content 
into shallow basins. Around the 
brim, childish feet often linger 
on their way from the small 
red schoolhouse in the valley to 
the cottages upon the hillside. 

The way up the brook, 
through the ravine and out by an 
opening to the highway, is the 
favorite course of a truant group 



On the Threshold, 

of growing lads and lasses, who 
loiter in complete forgetfulness 
of time or parental disfavor. 
The glancing of tiny fish allure 
the small, bare feet into depths 
of liquid delight, while the 
strange intrusion provokes a 
stray crab to take a savory bite 
of wee toes. 

The attendant joys of the way 
home through ''the gulf," as the 
children term it, are unconscious 
lessons, and are the joys which 
crystallize into memories of last- 
ing delight. The grandeur of 

JO 



On the Threshold. 

the glen ; the musical trill of the 
brook; the mystical depths of 
forest shadows stirring ever with 
whispered breathings of aeolian 
melody, serve to penetrate their 
youthful sensibilities and per- 
vade their minds with thoughts 
of purity, goodness, and God, 
such as no bare moral code can 
impart. 

Upon one side of the ravine, 
in solemn grandeur, — tier on 
tier, rise gigantic rocks, whose 
aged strength is crowned by a 
grey old forest. Upon the op- 



On the Thfeshold, 

posite side, which is less pre- 
cipitous, cHng various stunted 
growths, desperately intent upon 
drawing the utmost of living 
energy from the meagre soil, and 
representing aptly many a 
human life in extreme need of 
all available good. 

Along the grassy top of the 
embankment grow stooping old 
birches, as though shrinking 
from the dangers of the chasm ; 
while stately hemlocks, grown 
more bold, wave their slender 
arms in careless freedom over the 

t2 



On the Threshold. 

very brink of destruction. Here 
again is humanity fitly figured in 
the bold strength of its existing 
wrongs and its stout disregard 
of ultimate ruin. All along this 
length of larger growth crowd 
vigorous underbrush in wild 
abundance, further suggesting 
the multitude of prolific errors 
which quickly spring along the 
line of any great moral wrong. 

Proceeding along the road, 
the way dips into a shady hol- 
low, then rises again and leads 
on over level distances; ad- 

13 



On the Threshold. 

vances up sturdy steeps ; across 
rollicking rills; then following 
another little glen at the left, it 
turns in quiet ascent up a pic- 
turesque eminence and stretches 
on to the west, till it bends and 
rises again to the last crowning 
acclivity. Farther on it ex- 
tends down a long slope; turns 
again, and is finally lost in its 
windings among the shadows of 
far-away hills. 

Dotting the long hillside of 
this irregular route are peaceful 
cottages, and large, cheerful 

H 



On the Thresholds 

farmhouses, whose hospitable 
doors swing wide in ready wel- 
come of hum.an woe for the 
greater joy of human healing. 

Moving upward over this old- 
time road is a well-known car- 
riage. Past objects of childhood 
admiration, but quite indiffer- 
ently, now rides Marion Harney. 

With a dimly conscious sense 
of familiar scenes, she finds her- 
self endeavoring to Introduce 
agreeably her happy past to her 
probable, prosaic future, and 

(5 



On the Thresholc?* 

bring them to graciously ac- 
knowledge each other. 

She has come from a ladies* 
seminary within a college town a 
few miles up the valley, where 
the indelible, formative era of 
schooldays has just been com- 
pleted. The graceful draperies 
of "the girls" in misty white- 
ness ; the passing breath of sub- 
tile perfumes ; the buoyancy of 
youthful hopes, and earnest 
words of wise admonition on the 
evening of her graduation, are 
still stirring her heart. And 

J6 



Ofl the Threshold* 

novv^, with the rare glow of these 
recollections of school life, with 
its discipline; its rich experi- 
ence and fulness of thought, she 
tries to subserve the circum- 
stances which lie before. Ah! 
How wise for every human heart 
to mount each unpleasant pros- 
pect with the blithesome strength 
of past good ! How vital and 
accumulative would all worthy 
powers become ! Marion's half- 
defined thought is a desire to 
carry her unused store of knowl- 
edge and nurtured hope into the 

17 



On the Threshold. 

waste, cheerless places of her 
wide-sweeping future. Her rev- 
erie is at length broken by her 
brother Rutherford. He speaks 
of their childish, gleeful days 
together, when every nook and 
crevice of *'the gulf" was 
searched out and duly inspected, 
and every treasure of the brook 
rendered up to their profound in- 
vestigations. Very happy and 
tender had been their youthful 
interchange of fancy and feeling, 
and now each is quietly glad that 
the intimacy is to be renewed. 

18 



On the Threshold. 

During the period of Marion's 
education Rutherford had com- 
pleted an academic course and 
returned again to the farm, 
where he became the support of 
an enfeebled father. His experi- 
ences and responsibilities fast 
strengthened in him independ- 
ence of action and vigor of pur- 
pose, while the kindness and 
purity of his disposition deep- 
ened with his daily experiences, 
and created a fuller sense of the 
expansive beauty and power of 
a Divine Hand in nature. 

J9 



On the Threshold. 

With memories thus merged 
into the full peace of a late June J 
afternoon, these two near their \ 
home upon the hillside. 

They pass a small cabin but a j 
little distance beyond the open- 
ing into ''the gulf," around 
which a few flowers struggle for 
existence among weeds and i 
grasses. It stands almost within j 
the shadow of a stately dwelling ] 
farther on, where the soft breath : 

of early blossoms rises from a : 
primly arranged garden. Well- : 

trimmed evergreens and trellised ] 

i 

20 ^ 



On the Threshold* 

rose bushes stand at proper dis- 
tances at the front. Back of the 
garden are long rows of bee- 
hives, making the air animate 
and redolent with the sweets of 
their busy inhabitants. The 
whirr of an old mill standing at 
the foot of a little slope gives 
a contented undertone to the 
orchestra of singing birds and 
humming bees, and strikes a key 
in perfect harmony with the 
blissful babble of the brook. 

They jog on past a deserted, 
tumble-down hut, whose shad- 

2J 



On the Threshold* 

owy corners and hid-away places 
are inhabited, according to child- 
ish fears and fancies, by fright- 
ful images and weird spirits hav- 
ing a peculiar affinity for webs 
and bats and general desolation. 
Timid, anxious eyes often glance 
hastily back into the open door- 
way and shattered windows, but 
always in vain, to discover any 
reality of their childish appre- 
hensions. Marion and Ruther- 
ford, indeed, once cherished a 
dread of the place, but their 
fears were long ago dispelled. 

22 



On the Threshold. 

Immediately their way is thickly 
bordered on either side with tan- 
gled foliage, and passing a 
second little glen previously 
mentioned, the peculiar, cajoling 
cackle of a flock of geese greets 
their ears. The sound arises from 
a delicious, grass-fringed pool at 
the bottom of the glen. A 
pretty cottage comes to view at 
the right, snugly nestled within 
a garden of every variety of 
bloom, which blush and blossom 
in delirious confusion and exces- 
sive sweetness from early sum- 

23 



On the Threshold. 

mer to hoar frost. Passing a 
luxuriant apple orchard they 
reach a point which brings them 
half-way round toward the 
valley, commanding a broad, en- 
chanting view of dale and hill ; 
of woodland and meadow. 
Away up the valley and peeping 
out from clustering hills can be 
seen portions of the village from 
which Marion has come. Its 
church spires pierce the blue of 
their dim distance, and through 
broken clumps of dark green 
trees, standing with just fitting 

24 



On the Threshold. 

dignity and distance from the 
town, Marion has often discov- 
ered the dull grey of the massive 
college structures. 

Below the village a small lake 
turns its dimpled face to the 
slant beams of the low-hanging 
sun. 

A few moments in rounding 
this charming eminence, brings 
their faces again westward and 
homeward, and beyond, a long, 
rambling farmhouse, whose neg- 
lected surroundings tell of de- 



25 



On the Threshold* 

dining prosperity in the hands 
of its present possessors. 

Reaching a shady lane, Ma- 
rion sees again the old, spacious 
home of her tenderest childhood 
recollections. The glory of the 
western sun steals softly through 
the boughs of the orchard, and 
wraps in glimmering beauty this 
earthly habitation of peace. 

It stands below the last emi- 
nence previously depicted, which 
trends to the north and south, 
and which, mounted with 
wooded heights, shelters this top- 

26 



On the Thfeshold^ 

most hillside dwelling from the 
biting blasts of winter. 

Marion and Rutherford have 
conversed but little since begin- 
ning their long ascent, but both 
have been seriously reflecting of 
life and its deeply concealed 
meaning; while something of 
its broad scope and its limitless 
grandeur is reaching them 
through the voiceless power of 
nature's wondrous exercise. 

Already the sense of hindrance 
to noble endeavor at the prospect 
of so retired a life upon the farm 

27 



On the Threshold. 

is being gradually supplanted, 
in Marion's mind, by the con- 
sciousness of the real growth 
necessary for hardihood and 
practical independence in isolated 
living. And there comes to her 
the added inspiration of the ab- 
solute worth and superlative 
beauty of a life which will not 
quarrel with fate. 

As Rutherford assists Marion 
from the carriage, to the broad 
piazza extending along both 
sides of the large family sitting- 
room, the half-expressed joy of 

28 



On the Threshold. 

the gentle father; the subdued 
welcome of the mother, and the 
more hearty greetings of her 
younger sister Florence and 
brother Henry, serve to dispel all 
discontent from Marion's mind, 
and fill it with the ineffable 
sweetness of home's affection. 

After a pleasant chat at tea, 
comprising a brief account of all 
that had transpired since her last 
home visit, Marion helps about 
the kitchen with real pleasure, 
and then hastens to explore 
every wonted nook in the home, 

29 



On the Threslioid. 

and test its appearance of famil- 
iarity. 

At length she saunters up the 
lane under the woods, whence the 
cows have come lowing to the 
stables, and following a footpath, 
comes out upon a height which 
rears itself above all around, 
and upon which she has often 
stood and beheld with unspoken 
rapture the glories of the dying 
day. To-night, the varied, shift- 
ing beauty of earth and sky por- 
tray with master hand the alter- 
nating effulgence and darkening 

30 



On the Threshold. 

apprehensions of Marlon's mind. 
Her heartstrings are played upon 
by the soothing zephyrs of glad 
memories, and swept, in turn, by 
swift winds of certain trial and 
grave responsibilities. The birds 
in the wood have hushed their 
evening song; the great canvas 
of complex coloring in sky and 
cloud has rolled away to the 
west, giving place to the starlit 
canopy of night, while Marion 
still lingers within the faint 
shadows of the twilight. Pres- 
ently an arm slips gently within 

3t 



On the Threshold. 

hers, and she recognizes that 
Rutherford has sought her sis- 
terly presence and confidence. 
She welcomes his companion- 
ship, and in the assurance of 
mutual sympathy they talk to- 
gether of all their experienced 
trials and youthful joys, and 
their impressions of needful 
strength and preparation for the 
future. 

Arm in arm they walk slowly 
towards home, and In the face of 
the uprising moon, riding tri- 
umphantly to the heights of 

32 



On the Threshold. 

celestial beauty, they each behold 
the harbinger of life's great 
glory; — of being's rich estate. 

Lying that night under the 
father-roof, with her fair cheek 
pressed upon a downy pillow, 
Marion's inner consciousness 
fades out into the nightly ex- 
panse of dreamy phantoms. 
And so our sketch is curtained; 
— reality veiled, 



33 



LofC. 



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